A Recipe For Disaster
by Jake Nickleby
Summary: Linguini reflects back on his childhood. Then when he has a child of his own, Remy worries that having a baby in the house might cause… problems.
1. Skate Master

Disclaimer: All characters and events related to _Ratatouille_ are owned by Pixar Animation Studios and Walt Disney Pictures.

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Chapter One: Skate Master

Life was never easy for Alfredo Linguini. Being raised in a small New Jersey apartment by his single Italian mother was a bit of a struggle for her at sometimes, but America opened so many opportunities for the both of them. Growing up, his mother, Renata Linguini would tell him everyday and every night about stories of her golden days in Paris. She would constantly daydream about moving back to France.

"Oh, Alfredo, you would just simply adore Paris! When we can afford it, I'll promise you that we will have a home there," Renata would always say as she tucked him into bed. "Someday," she said softly, kissing him on his forehead.

By the time Alfredo turned twelve, he started searching for work to help support his mother and himself. We'll be in Paris in no time! he thought confidently to himself. Unfortunately, he came to realize that with every job he applied himself to, trouble was just around the corner.

His first job was as the neighborhood's paperboy. Unable to control his strength, he flung the newspapers too hard and managed to break a few windows. Most of the money he earned was spent replacing the windows he broke.

His second job was not so hot, either. Just before his fourteenth birthday, he worked at a nearby market, bagging groceries for customers and carrying the purchases to their cars. Every time, as he would lift the heavy bags, the groceries came bursting through the bottom of the sacks, causing a great mess all over the tiled floor.

"Don't feel defeated, Alfredo," his mother would always say after a trying day. "You just need to keep your head up and do what you're best at!" His mother was right. He might have been a bit of a disaster and unintentionally cause trouble, but he was good at one thing.

During his childhood, his school friends would call him "the skate master". Alfredo never thought much of it. He figured that it was just a catchy name for a kid who almost always had skates strapped to his feet. He never knew how good he was until that one day his bike tire got a flat…

Alfredo was twenty minutes late for his sixteenth job, which where he worked as a waiter at a drive-in diner. Skates were mandatory for the uniform. With the flat tire he had, there would be no way he would ever get to work. Out of desperation, he quickly buckled on his skates and began to race as fast as he could, dodging random obstacles in his path.

Not even a moment later did he reach his destination, making up for lost time by taking orders as quick as lightning. Only twenty-five minutes later, and all the customer's needs were met.

"Here's your order, sir! One cheeseburger and a chocolate shake," Alfredo announced, rolling up to the last customer's car window.

"Dang, boy!" the man exclaimed, taking the tray of food, "Where did you learn how to skate like that!"

"W-well, I-I…" the teen stuttered, embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I saw you all the way back on Garden Drive!" the man boomed, lifting his hat off his balding head. "You are out of control!"

"Um, w-well…" his muttered reply.

"You know, if you gave lessons at the local skating rink, I bet a lot of youngsters would want to sign up. The rink will be the hottest spot in town!"

"Y-you know, I appreciate the offer, b-but—"

"Here," said the man, pulling out a piece of paper from his suit jacket. "A friend of mine owns the rink. If you make up your mind about wanting to work there, just tell Jim that Bob sent you." Alfredo took the card, studying each side before pocking it.

Despite his good efforts, Alfredo lost his sixteenth job by the end of the day. He trudged back down the street to retrieve his broken-down bike. Lifting his head up to look out for traffic at the corner of the crosswalk, he spotted a payphone illuminated by a street lamp. Pulling out the card out of his pocket, he glanced at the print, then looked back at the payphone.

Rushing over to the payphone, he jammed a quarter in the coin slot, and punched the same numbers that were impressed on the card. "Hello, is this Jim? My name is Alfredo Linguini…"

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End of Chapter One

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7 September 2007


	2. Do What Your Best At

For disclaimer on _Ratatouille_, please refer to chapter one.

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Chapter Two: Do What Your Best At

Alfredo officially declared to himself that seventeen was his lucky number. After all, he turned seventeen the day he started his seventeenth job, and it has been the best job he has ever had. Plus, it was the job he had kept for the longest period of time. Not to mention that the pay was good. It was not great, but it was good. It was enough to get him and his mother by. It was enough to send them both to Paris.

The man had gotten over a rough patch in his life. His mother was diagnosed with cancer just after he turned eighteen. When he graduated high school, Alfredo decided to stay with his mother instead of attending college. Treatment was a difficult process, but Renata was starting to get better. Now his life was starting to look bright again.

"Okay, kids. Now follow my lead," Alfredo instructed, pointing to his feet.

"Hey, Linguini!" his manager, Jim yelled from the front desk. "Telephone call for you!"

"I'll be right back, kids!" Alfredo called, jumping over the rink's wall. He skated over the desk and grabbed the phone. "Hello, Alfredo Linguini speaking!" he said in a happy, sing-song voice.

His smile quickly disappeared, now replaced with a look of worry and distress.

"Linguini," Jim whispered. "What happened?" Alfredo hung up the phone and tried to blink back the tears in his eyes.

"Mom collapsed at work…" Alfredo started. "She just got sent to the hospital," he continued, taking one sentence at a time. "They're still doing testing, but they don't think she's going to… They think that… Well, she's not going to live much longer…"

Jim clasped his hand on Alfredo's shoulder. "Go, man. Don't worry about here. I'll take care of things. Just go." Alfredo took of his skates, and quickly slipped on his sneakers, leaving them untied. Running out of the building, he hopped onto his bike, and peddled as fast as he could.

Tears readying to spill down his cheeks as he tumbled over, getting his shoelaces stuck in the wheels of the bike. Picking himself up, he straddled himself back on and continued to race towards the hospital, ignoring his incident of falling. Breathlessly, he reached his destination.

"Mom," he cried weakly, walking into her hospital room. Renata turned her tired head towards him, and smiled to the best of her ability.

"Alfredo," she whispered. "Come sit with me, please." Slowly, he walked over to the ugly-carpeted, brown chair that stood beside the bed. Sitting down cautiously, he waited for some dreadful words he wished he would not hear. The short period of silence seemed like an eternity.

"Alfredo," his mother started, reaching out to softly touch her son's face. She smiled, a twinkle in her eye. "My beautiful little boy… grew up to be such a handsome young man…"

"Mom, stop…" he pleaded, trying to pull away from her gentle grasp around his chin.

"Alfredo," she whispered. "You sacrificed so much for me…" Alfredo shut his eyes, a couple of stray tears escaped and rolled down his cheeks.

"No, Mom. You did. For me…" He could feel a cloth against his skin, dabbing at the salty water drops. A light laughter escaped from her lips.

"Now don't you argue with your mother. You know better than that… Anyway, there is one last thing I need to ask of you." Alfredo reopened his eyes, and placed his hand over hers. "You know how it is always been my dream to show you Paris. Well, because I am unable to, I need you to go for me…"

The young man shook his head. "Mom, no… not without you…" More tears began to flow freely.

"Alfredo!" Renata said firmly. "It is very important that you do this for me…" She pulled away her hand away from his face in order to pick up a lavender envelope. The words "Monsieur Skinner" written in cursive letters.

"Do you remember me telling you about my good friend Auguste Gusteau?" Alfredo nodded.

"He's the one with the four-star restaurant…" he stated. She nodded in reply. Closing her eyes, she took an intake of breath, as if she was remembering something. Recomposing herself, she opened up her eyes.

"I hope this helps, Alfredo…" she said, handing him the envelope. "I need you to give this to the head chef, Monsieur Skinner." He lowered his head to the ground as he took the letter. She forced his head up. "Remember what I always say…"

"Don't feel defeated," he answered.

"You just need to keep your head up… and do what you're best at."

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End of Chapter Two

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14 September 2007


	3. Flattery

Disclaimer: Information related to the following sources are owned by the respected parties (for disclaimer on _Ratatouille_, please refer to chapter one): Dialogue from the _Disney Adventures/Comic Zone's_ Ratatouille comic "The Skate Master", written by Carlotta Quattrocolo and Michael Stewart, is used in this chapter. Other sources of information include the Wikipedia website, the official _Ratatouille_ website, and the book, _Ratatouille: The Guide to Remy's World_, written by Glenn Dakin. For disclaimer on _Ratatouille_, please refer to chapter one.

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Chapter Three: Flattery

Packing up his whole life and moving to a foreign country all on his own was not an easy thing for Alfredo to do, and who could blame him? The young man had recently lost his mother, he had to give up most of what little material items he already owned, and for the first time in his life, he quit his job.

The one job he had ever liked, not to mention the only job he was ever really good at, and he had to quit. At least he was not fired. Being fired felt even worse. Alfredo hoped he could start off his life just like the city he had come to- new and fresh. Unfortunately, things were not starting out very well as he wished.

Alfredo found a shabby apartment located in the Monmartre section of Paris. With his height at six feet and three inches tall, he knew right away that it was too small for him, but it was all he could afford. Plus, the restaurant was located on the left bank of the Seine in the fifth arrondisement in Paris. He probably could not find another apartment cheaper, and closer to his future work place.

* * *

Alfredo waited anxiously to talk to Gusteau's chef de cusine, Monsieur Skinner. He watched the flames from the stove top blaze up to the ceiling, feeling the heat against his face.

"Oh, look who it is!" Larousse the garde manager told Skinner as the midget chef walked by. "Alfredo Linguini! His mother's an old flame of Gusteau's."

"Ah, yes. How is Renata? " the head chef asked with an expressionless inflection in his voice.

"Good," he automatically answered. Then, realizing his response, he said, "Uh, well, not good. She's been better… She's, uh, she's…" Alfredo had no idea why he was lying. Maybe because he thought it was impolite to tell a complete stranger that his mother was dead. It also hurt less to lie about it. He would never work up the courage to admit the truth.

"She died," Horst, the sous chef muttered to Skinner.

"Oh," he said carelessly. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, no, don't be. She believed in heaven, so she's covered... after-life speaking." Alfredo turned a shade of pink as he pulled out the lavender letter, and gave it to the man.

"What is this?" Skinner sneered.

"It's from my mother," Alfredo explained. "She thought it would help… get me a job… here."

"Of course, of course," the man muttered, walking back to his office. Alfredo was handed a uniform, and an old-fashioned yarn mop with a bucket of dirty water.

"You will be our new plongeur," he was told. Garbage boy? he thought, and sighed. He had a job like this a couple of times, and both experiences had been the most miserable of his long list of employment. Alfredo just somehow knew that this would be the worst.

"Welcome to hell!"

Alfredo silently went to go put on his uniform, and came out again to begin his job. He walked over to a corner of the kitchen, and started to mop the floor. As always, his clumsy self was prone to disaster. This time resulted him to knock over a pot of soup. He frantically looked around as he picked up the pot and put it back on the stove.

If anyone saw him, he would be fired for sure. He could not bear to lose another job. He had to keep this one. For his mother, at least. Luckily, no one seemed to notice his mistake… yet. Maybe he could fix this. Alfredo started throwing random ingredients into the pot.

Going back and forth from mopping the floors to fixing the soup, he saw the most extraordinary thing. It looked like a rat… cooking! He rubbed his eyes, staring at the creature in wonder. The animal soon took notice of Alfredo, and tried to escape through the open window. Alfredo quickly grabbed a colander, and trapped the rodent with the cooking instrument.

He hoped no one noticed the rat. Unfortunately, Skinner caught him with a wooden spoon in his hand.

"What's this?" he screamed. "Cooking in my kitchen?" As Skinner berated Alfredo, the soup was served. Skinner was furious.

"You're fired!"

"You can't fire him!" Colette Tatou, the chef de partie convinced the head chef, reminding him of Gusteau's most cherished belief was that "anyone can cook". Alfredo sighed. Colette had saved his job!

Once she had finished her speech, everyone in the kitchen noticed the rodent trying to escape. Thinking quickly, Alfredo trapped it in a glass jar.

"What should I do now?" Alfredo asked anxiously.

"Kill it!" Skinner shouted angrily.

"What, now?" Alfredo asked, perplexed.

"No, not in the kitchen! Are you mad?"

Alfredo ran out of the kitchen, into the courtyard to retrieve his bike, and then peddled quickly along side the banks of the River Seine. Coming to a stop, he parked his bike and carried the rat towards the edge. He held the glass jar at arms-length, ready to release it into the rushing river. Feeling sorry for the poor, defenseless creature, he tried to avert his gaze from the frightened stare from the rat's beady, black eyes.

"Don't look at me like that! I've got to get rid of you or I'll lose my job!" Staring intensely at the rodent, he made another shocking and amazing discovery.

"You can understand me?" Alfredo asked. The rat nodded. He set the jar down and sat down beside it. He thought about his soup disaster in the kitchen, and he started to talk to the animal.

"I can't cook, can I?" he asked. The rat shook its head. "But you can, right?" It shrugged. "Come on, don't be so modest. You're a rat, for Pete's sake." He sighed. "I need this job… I've lost so many." Talking to someone- human or not- seemed to make Alfredo feel better. It hurt so much to be alone.

Then a brilliant idea struck him. What if the rat and him teamed up? The little chef could be the brains, and he could be the muscle! He proposed the idea to the animal, and eventually Little Chef agreed.

The next morning, the rat showed signs of doubt about Alfredo's plan. "Look, I know it's stupid and weird, but neither of us can do this alone so we got to do this together, right? You with me?" Little Chef nodded. "So, let's do this thing!" Alfredo shouted with determination.

* * *

"Colette will be responsible for teaching you how we do things here," the midget head chef stated, walking out of the room. Alfredo stared at the glaring woman. There seemed to be such hatred in her eyes. It made him feel so awkward, so he thought he should try to ease things up a bit.

"Listen," he started, leaning one arm on the cutting board, trying his best to be cool. "I just want you to let you know how honored I am to be studying under such a—"

"No, you listen!" Colette growled, pinning his sleeve with a gigantic knife. "I just want you to know exactly who you are dealing with," she threatened, waving another knife in his face. "How many women do you see in this kitchen?" she asked.

"Well, I- I- ah—" Colette pinned his sleeve with the second knife.

"Only me," she answered. "Why do you think that is? Because high cuisine is an antiquated hierarchy built upon rules by stupid, old men." She turned around, looking at the other chefs busily working as Alfredo tried to unpin his shirt to no avail. "Rules designed to make it impossible for women to enter this world, but still I'm here. How did this happen?"

"Because you- Well, because you- uh- uh—" She pinned his sleeve with a third knife.

"Because I am the toughest cook in this kitchen! I have worked too hard for too long to get here, and I am not going to jeopardize it for some garbage boy who got lucky! Got it?"

Alfredo muttered a weak reply as Colette pulled all three knives out of the cutting board in one swift movement, releasing the red-haired man and sending him collapsing to the ground. He picked himself up, laughing.

"Wow!" he exclaimed. What a woman Colette was! He had never met anyone like her before. No one had ever made him feel intimidated and, at the same time, head-over-heels in love before.

* * *

Before long, Alfredo's trial period as a chef began. Colette was at first frustrated at his incompetence, but as he learned, she stopped using her usual threats such as "Do as I say, or I will kill you!", and slowly showed her more softer side. Something she would have never let happen before, being the toughest and only female of the kitchen.

"You're lucky I'm here to help you."

"She's right," he said with a sigh of relief, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Without help, I always seem to get into trouble."

* * *

"I must find a way to repay Colette for all the kindness she's shown me," Alfredo told himself, pacing nervously around his cramped, dirty apartment, once he got off work that evening. "But how?"

"I don't know what kind of gift she'd like," he continued, as the rat waved its paws frantically at Alfredo, trying to get the man's attention as his large shadow passed over the rodent rhythmically. "If only there was some way I could help her."

"I don't want to cook anything now, Little Chef," Alfredo said tiredly, collapsing onto the old, beat-up sofa. "I'm trying to think!"

"I wish you could help with _this_ one," the man sighed. The rat shrugged his shoulders, giving up hope. Why do I even bother? he thought. Alfredo did not even give him a chance to try to help out. The little chef had a perfectly good idea to help him, but now it looked like that Alfredo was on his own.

* * *

The next afternoon, Alfredo invited Colette to join him on their lunch break. Maybe talking to her will help him figure out how to thank her. "Eating outside was a wonderful idea, Linguini!"

"It's nice to get out of that hot kitchen!"

"And there's something I really want to say to you, Colette." He took a huge deep breath, finally working up his courage to say what he really wanted to say. "I…" Then he clumsily spilt his lunch all over the front of his uniform. Colette reassured him that the stain was nothing to worry about.

"So, what were you going to say?" she asked, staring off into the distance.

"Oh, never mind," he said, disappointed. "It's not important." Will he ever get a chance to tell her how he felt? As the two chefs went inside, and began to prepare vegetables, Alfredo gave up trying to think of a special way to thank Colette and decided to just flat out say it.

"Thank you, by the way," he said nervously, "for all the advice about cooking."

"And thank you, too," the Parisian replied, giving a sly smile.

"For what?"

"For taking it."

* * *

"Look at them go!" Colette exclaimed to Alfredo as she dreamily watched teenage lovebirds skating past the courtyard, during their break before the dinner rush. "I've always wanted to learn how to roller skate…"

That's it! he thought excitedly. This was his chance to have a way of _showing_ his thanks to Colette. He asked the lovely Parisian to meet him at the park the following afternoon. With his gear strapped on, Alfredo waited patiently for his crush to arrive.

That sounds like Colette's motorcycle, he thought, hearing the machine's engine roaring as it neared the park.

"So why did you ask me to meet you here, Linguini?" the woman asked, pulling off her helmet.

"Ta-daa!" Alfredo cheered as he held up pink and yellow skates.

"Skates?" Colette asked, looking at the contraptions quizzically.

"Yes! I'm going to teach you how to roller-skate to thank you for all your help in the kitchen."

"I don't know…" she said doubtfully, glancing down at the equipment she put on herself.

"Relax…" he said with a smile. "You're in good hands. My friends called me the Skate Master growing up!"

"It's kind of scary, Linguini," she said, bracing herself.

"Just be brave…" Alfredo told her, as he held her hand in his. "Like me. I know you can do it!"

Soon, Colette was gliding gracefully through the park by Alfredo's side. "Excellent!" he cheered. "You're already skating like a pro!"

"It's really fun!" she mused. "Just imagine how fast I could get around in the kitchen with a pair of these!"

"Thanks for showing me how to be brave," she whispered to him.

* * *

"Colette, w-wait-wait…" he stuttered as she silently stormed out of the kitchen. "Colette!"

"Oh, it's over, Little Chef!" he cried, pounding his fist onto the tiled floor. "I can't do it anymore!" He could hear Colette starting the engine of her motorcycle. He needed to hurry.

"Colette!" he shouted as he burst through the double doors. "Wait, wait, wait!" he cried as he ran over and jumped onto the tough chef's sleek motorcycle. "Look," he confessed, "I'm no good with words. I'm no good with food, either. At least without your help."

"I hate forced modesty. It's just another way to lie." She sighed. "You have talent."

He really did not have talent and, truthfully, he really was not good with words, but it was now or never. If there was ever a time to tell Colette the truth, this would be it.

He had to tell her that he was not the talented chef everyone thought he was. He had to tell her about the little chef. If he did not tell her about the rodent, it could ruin his friendship with Colette. He needed to save his friendship.

"I wouldn't have done that. I would've followed the recipe, I would've followed your advice." He began to pace around, aggravated. "I would have followed your advice 'til the ends of the Earth because I love you…rrr…advice!"

Not exactly what he wanted to say. "I have a… a…" he started, then he braced himself, spilling everything out in one, quick breath, "A tiny little chef that tells me what to do!"

Colette must have thought he was a nut, but he was too mixed up and distracted to notice her disturbed expression. Nor did he notice her attempts to use pepper spray on him and run away from him.

The little rat, sitting safely hidden inside Alfredo's toque, was getting really nervous. Don't do it, he thought. No one must ever find out their secret. It also annoyed him how much of a bumbling fool Alfredo was. The rodent took the advantage to kill two birds with one stone: prevent Alfredo from blowing their cover, and get the man to confess his love to Colette.

Grabbing onto strands of red hair, the rat tugged hard, forcing Alfredo's lips onto Colette's. The couple kissed, and began a wonderful romance that neither of them had ever experienced before in their lives.

* * *

Alfredo could not describe the painful twisting in his stomach. He was sitting on the desk chair in Skinner's office. Colette held the lavender piece of paper, reading the document carefully. How could his mother keep this from him? How could she not tell him who his father was?

Colette placed the letter down on the desk. She turned toward him, her face beaming. He looked up at her, confused, as he kept his arms around his abdomen.

"Don't you see?" Colette said with a look of amazement lingering in her features. She glanced around the room. "All of this is yours… Just imagine what you could do with a place like this."

The twisting ceased as Alfredo realized Colette's words, and his face brightened up.

"Get out of my office!" the couple heard Skinner shriek as he burst through the office door.

"Non!" Colette answered. "You're in _his_ office!"

* * *

Alfredo looked around the enormous, golden apartment. It was like being in a fairy tale, and he felt like a prince living in a grand castle. Never did he ever imagine that he would inherit a great fortune, and have someone special to share it with. His life had changed in a second.

Little Chef's paws slipped from the strands of Alfredo's hair. He just could not hold on tight enough as Alfredo drove away with Colette on her motorcycle. He felt the sting of rejection and abandonment as he watched his only human friend leave him behind.

* * *

Colette raised her arm, ready to strike Alfredo across his face. He braced himself, preparing himself to take the blow. Then she slowly lowered her hand and ran out. He blew it. He messed up his chance to be with the only woman he ever loved, now that he had lost her trust.

Everyone had lost their trust and respect for Alfredo Linguini. It wretched at his heart to know that, but there was no time to feel defeated. He had to believe in Little Chef.

* * *

Alfredo laid alone in his cold, empty bed, unable to sleep, and wondered if Colette did the same.

Would everything turn out the way it was suppose to? He would have to wait for morning to hear Anton Ego's review to know the answer to that question. He just wished he could have Colette with him, lying underneath the silken sheets, to get through the anxious night.

He went over the events that happened earlier that evening.

Alfredo opened his arms towards Colette. She came back. She still loved him. That is what he thought, at least. Then she held him back, her face streaked with tears, and ran off.

"I want to be with you," he said, running after her in the courtyard. He saw her straddle her motorcycle. "I want you to stay with me…"

Before she put on her helmet and rode away, she made only one comment. "Don't flatter yourself."

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End of Chapter Three

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28 September 2007


	4. A Recipe For Disaster

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Chapter Four: A Recipe for Disaster

Everything that Alfredo had hoped for happened. The morning of Anton Ego's highly-anticipated review came and went, and Gusteau's had been shut down for over half a year. Six month had passed since Alfredo and Colette made up, and opened their own successful bistro known as La Ratatouille. Six months had passed since Alfredo asked Colette to live with him, and to Alfredo's delight, she agreed.

Alfredo pulled the silver band out of his pocket, examining the princess-cut diamond placed carefully in the center of the band. With his free arm, he stretched out and leaned against his suite's kitchen sink. Glancing at the wall's clock, then out the window above the sink, he took a huge sigh. How would he ever get the courage to ask her?

Hearing a shuffle outside the kitchen, he silently fumbled to shove the ring back in his pocket. Instead, it slipped from his fingers and fell down the drainpipe just as Colette walked through the door. She quizzically looked at Alfredo as he stared blankly at the sink.

"What is the matter?" she asked. "Are you using the garbage disposal?"

Colette did not seem to notice Alfredo's panicked muttering as she reached over and flipped on the garbage disposal's switch. A horrible gurgling, grumbling noise emerged from the drain. Colette flipped the switch off and walked away from the sink and Alfredo, who continued to stare blankly down the drainpipe.

He managed to break away his gaze when he heard Colette groan softly, putting her hands against her lower back.

"Honey, what's wrong?" he asked concernedly, walking over to her from behind.

"I've been having back pains all morning!" she answered as Alfredo wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her left shoulder. "It's nothing to be worried about. It's probably just pre-menstrual cramps." She pulled away from his gentle embrace.

"I'll be in the shower," she stated, walking out of the kitchen. Alfredo's attention turned back to the sink. He hysterically grasped to porcelain bowl and sunk to his knees, muttering "What am I going to do? What am I going to do?" to himself. He sprung up and grabbed the old-fashioned telephone nailed to the wall, frantically making calls to his insurance company and the local plumber.

With all the commotion, Alfredo had no clue how he noticed the barely audible rapping on a lower panel of the kitchen window. Taking a moment to look out the clear glass, his face lit up when he saw a familiar, furry face.

"Little chef! You have no idea how glad I am to see you!" Alfredo exclaimed as he opened the window for his fellow rat friend. The "little chef" stood at the window sill with a smug expression.

"The ring, Little Chef! It fell down the drain! What will I do?"

Little rat paws rested on his hips- his "rattitude" pose. Then, he reached behind him and pulled out the missing object. Alfredo stared at it, dumbfounded. The engagement ring's shine was dulled by the filthy sewer's water, but was otherwise undamaged. Alfredo gingerly took the ring between his index finger and his thumb, examining it with wide eyes.

"B-but… how can this be?" The cooking-savvy rat shrugged his furry shoulders, and the red-haired man sighed in happily. "Oh, what does it matter…?" He scooped up the animal with his free hand and kissed the top of his head. "Thank you, Little Chef!"

"Linguini!" Colette's yell echoed from the shower. Uh-oh, Alfredo thought. Ever since they had been a couple, Colette called him by his last name only when she was angry. She came storming out of the bathroom dripping wet, gripping the front of her robe tightly together.

"It's not cramps! In fact—" Angrily marching up to Alfredo, she growled, "I'm late!" Then she held up a white plastic stick close to his face. A pink strip appeared on the stick. It was a pregnancy test, and result read positive.

"You're pre-pre-" Alfredo was stunned. The news came so suddenly. It caused a trigger in his mind to have a random flashback that occurred a few weeks ago.

Alfredo was grinning widely, and he did not try to hide it. It was a late Sunday morning and he was lying in bed on his side, caressing Colette's bare backside. The silken sheets felt soft and smooth against his legs. He could feel her fingers brush across his lips and chin. He never felt so happy, so loved before.

How could anyone like Colette fall in love with a fumbling fool like him? It was because Colette thought his clumsy and confused manner was sweet and cute. It was because, unlike other men, he actually listened to her. That is what Colette loved most about him, though Alfredo still wondered how Colette found being awkward and perplexed so attractive.

Everything felt so right. His life seemed almost too good to be true. So even if it was all a dream, he was enjoying every present moment. He was so pleased with his life that he would never let go of what he had right now. No matter what happened, he would be happy with whatever he had.

Shaking his head, Alfredo realized he was still standing in the middle of the kitchen and not laying in his cozy bed. "W-w-we're-we're having a baby?"

Colette's angry expression soften to a more puzzled look. Lowering the test away from his face, she titled her head slightly to the side and raised an eyebrow. She had forgotten why she was so angry, and now she was a bit confused by Alfredo's reaction. He was surely shocked.

"We're having a baby!"

Though he also seemed excited, like this was the best thing that had could ever happened to him, like he wanted to have this child. Maybe she should be happy about it too.

"I'm going to be a daddy!" Colette collapsed into his arms, planting a kiss on his lips before he broke away from her, jumping up three feet in the air.

"Woo-hoo! I'm going to be a daddy!"

Little Chef stood on the windowsill, shaking his furry little head. Things were going to be different with a kid around. He recalled the first time Linguini fell in love with Colette, and began dating her. The rodent was left feeling abandoned. Now it was about to start all over again, but this time was permanent. Once the child was born, Little Chef would be left abandoned forever. A baby was just a recipe for disaster.

* * *

End of Chapter Four

* * *

30 September 2007


	5. REMY

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Chapter Five: R-E-M-Y

Nine months went quickly enough, not that the rodent had been enjoying those months. Alfredo and Colette were very busy, preparing for the baby's arrival, as well as the couple's marriage. That's right, thought the rat. Soon after they found out about their pregnancy, Alfredo finally worked up the courage to propose to Colette, and with only three more months to go before the birth of the baby, they were happily wedded.

They named the child Elaina Linguini, but Alfredo had a special name for her. Remembering Elaina's first day at her new home, Little Chef watched Alfredo cradling the girl before putting her down in her cradle.

"Daddy loves you, Bella," he said softly before leaving the room.

Little Chef climbed up onto the edge of the white cradle, staring down at the cooing infant that was inside. He worried about the change the girl would have on his life. Not only was he going to be continually ignored, but the child would grow an intolerance for rats when she got older. Little Chef did not know why he thought that Elaina would turn out like most humans who hated rodents, but he just had a feeling.

He continued to stare at the baby, while suddenly he realize that she was looking straight at him with a huge, toothless grin on her face. She gave him a loud giggle, and Little Chef smiled back at her. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe a baby was not a recipe for disaster, like he thought.

* * *

Over the next three years, she grew to have her father's tall, thin frame, freckles, and red hair (though it was silky like her mother's), and her mother's delicate nose, full lips, and narrow, angular eyes (though the color was light brown like her father's). She also had her mother's sassy attitude.

"This-is-the-letter-This-is-the-letter-This-This-T his-is-the-letter…" the electronic alphabet toy's robotic voice droned from the three-year-old's bedroom. "R-E-"

"Elaina, please pick up your toys," Colette commanded as she passed by the yellow, white, and pink-painted bedroom.

"M-Y" continued the toy's voice.

"Bella," Alfredo called a moment later as he passed by the room from the opposite direction. "Did you hear your mother? It's time to pick up your to—"

"R-r-r-e-h-h-m-m-e-e-e-e…" the girl sounded out. Alfredo stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Elaina sitting on the floor, halfway across the room from the talking toy. "Look, Papa! Remy and I are practicing our reading and writing!"

Shocked, Alfredo stared at the plaything. Standing on top of it was the little chef. Elaina ran off to the dining room as Alfredo crouched down towards his rat friend.

"Your name is Remy?" The rodent nodded, confidently. Alfredo collapsed into a sitting position. "After all this time…" he said, still stuck in a daze, "I finally know your name…" A moment later, Elaina quickly ran back in the room.

"Papa, will Remy be cooking dinner tonight? Remy told me that he can cook! Could he cook, please, Papa?" Alfredo looked at the rat, dumbfounded. Remy could _talk_ to her?

"Um, Bella… You said that Remy _talked_?" She nodded.

"See?" She held up her hands, forming different signals with her fingers. "This is how we talk! And Remy's learning how to write, too!"

The young girl walked over to some scattered paper on the floor. Picking up a page and a strawberry-red crayon, she placed the items in front of the rodent. The rat picked up the crayon, which was as nearly as tall as he was, and began to scribble some letters on the white paper.

"R-E-M-Y!" Elaina read, pointing to each letter.

* * *

End of Chapter Five

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3 October 2007


	6. First Day of School

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Chapter Six: First Day of School

"Bella," Alfredo whispered softly to the braided pig-tailed girl at his side. "You have nothing to worry about. You're going to like kindergarten!"

"But, Papa…" the girl whined. "I don't want to go to school. I want to stay home with you."

"Bella, you will have so much fun that it will be time to go home before you know it, and then you will tell me that you don't want to _leave_ school!"

"Humph!" she pouted, squeezing her father's hand tighter as they approached closer to the school's gate. She could see a middle-aged woman standing in the front of the gate's entrance. Obviously, she was the school's headmaster.

"Bonjour!" greeted the woman as Alfredo and his daughter finally reached the school grounds. "And you must be…"

"Elaina Linguini," Alfredo answered. "I'm her father, Alfredo Linguini."

"Well, Mademoiselle Linguini," the headmaster addressed with a smile, crouching down to Elaina's eye level. "Welcome to my school. Please enjoy your first day of kindergarten."

The five-year-old whirled around to her father. "Papa, please don't go!" Elaina cried, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Alfredo kneeled down and gently put his large hands around her shoulders.

"I won't be gone forever. And remember what I said. You're going to like kindergarten. Mama or I will be back in the afternoon to come pick you up."

"Okay," Elaina replied sadly. "I love you, Papa." Alfredo kissed her forehead.

"And you know I'll never stop loving you, Bella," Alfredo answered, tapping lightly on her nose. A huge smile appeared on Elaina's face, then she turned around, skipping into the school building.

"Bonjour, Bella," someone sneered. Elaina turned to see another kindergarten girl standing near her. Her dark brown curls bounced every time she moved her head. Elaina glared at the other girl.

"My name is _not_ Bella," Elaina said firmly.

"Well, that is what your papa called you," the girl replied.

"Only my papa calls me that," the red-head confirmed. "My name is Elaina Linguini."

"And I'm Brigitte Skinner," the girl announced, turning her heel. With her curls bouncing behind her, she walked down the hall. Elaina stared at the other child. She was too young and innocent to know the kind of feelings when one would meet a rival, but those feelings were beginning to surface for the red-haired child.

* * *

End of Chapter Six

* * *

10 October 2007


	7. The Painters of La Ratatouille

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Chapter Seven: The Painters of La Ratatouille

"Her reading comprehension is beyond the level than the starting level most of our other grande section students are suppose to be," Elaina's impressed schoolteacher exclaimed to her befuddled father as she led the parent to the classroom. "How did you ever raise her with such an extraordinary learning ability?"

"Uh, w-well…" he stuttered.

"Well," she continued without an answer. "Of course this is just after a one-day analysis. We'll let you know how her academic capability progresses throughout the year, as well as her... social maturity."

Alfredo raised his eyebrow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"She has been having trouble with getting along with the other children," the woman explained. "At least, with one particular student," she clarified. "They had a dispute with sharing the wooden building blocks during free-play time."

"Oh!" he proclaimed awkwardly. "Well, I-I'm so sorry that happened..."

"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing to be concerned about as of yet," the teacher reassured. "Like I said, this is only her first day here. Just keep note of it, and we will let you, and the other girl's parents' know if it will become a problem."

"Yes," Alfredo responded. "Thank you," he managed to get out as he passed through the classroom's doorway, before being shoved aside.

"Out of my way!" grumbled a short figure passing by. The figure looked up at Alfredo's long frame. "Hmm? Linguini?" he asked angrily. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"W-well, I'm here to pick up my daughter," Alfredo answered a bit timidly to the former head chef at _Gusteau's_. "Um, what brings you here, sir?"

"Humph," replied the grumpy, short man. "My foolish daughter carelessly scheduled a spa appointment at the same time she was suppose to pick up my grandchild…" he explained. "Leaving me to do the pick-up."

Skinner looked up at Alfredo, his face twisted in his usual, trademark disgusted sneer.

"Why are _you_ here?" the short man interrogated.

"I, um, just picking up my daughter," Alfredo answered, rubbing the back of his neck.

The man raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You? A daughter?"

"Yes, sir," the American man explained. "Colette and I've been married for five years now."

"Oh," Skinner said, uninterested. "Congratulations."

"Uh, thank you, sir," Alfredo answered rather awkwardly.

"Daddy!" he heard his little girl cry happily as she ran to him with open arms.

Alfredo kneeled down to her level with his arms stretched out. "Bella!"

She jumped into his arms, and he gave her a smooch on the cheek.

"But I don't want Grand-père to pick me up, I want _Mama_ to get me!" Alfredo overheard a shrill little voice behind him. He turned his head around to see a little girl stomp her right foot, clad with white tights and brand-new shiny black Mary Janes with golden buckles, down on the ground. Her brown curls bounced underneath her dark blue schoolgirl hat as she threw her fit.

"Well, that's too bad!" Skinner yelled back, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He reached out with his right arm and snatched the little girl's hand, and dragged her away as she proceeded to carry on her tirade.

"Humph!" Elaina pouted as she buried herself in her father's embrace as she watched the other girl leave. Alfredo glanced down at his daughter curiously, then briefly looked back up to his original line of view. He slid her off of his knee and stood up, taking her hand in his.

"How about you and I go have an after-school snack at the bistro?" he asked the young one.

"Oui, Papa!"

* * *

Elaina always felt giddy whenever she spotted the rat-shaped iron sign hanging high above. Giggling, she let go of her father's hand and raced towards the building, never taking her eyes off of the sign. She slowed down once she was about several feet away from the entrance, still staring at the sign in wonder. Alfredo chuckled, thinking to himself if his daughter's astonishment will ever fade away over time, and secretly he hoped it didn't.

"Wouah...!" Her eyes were finally torn away when she saw her mother on the patio, serving food to customers at the table nearest to the gateway.

"Mama!" she hollered excitedly, as she rushed over to the gate.

"Bébé!" her mother called out lovingly, reaching over the gate and pulling her up into a hug. She gave her daughter a kiss. "How was school today?" she asked, rubbing her nose against the younger one's. "Your very first day!"

"Mama..." the girl giggled. Colette looked over at Alfredo as he drew in closer to the pair. He gave his wife a quick kiss on the lips.

"Want me to take over?" he asked. Colette put down Elaina, and started to untie her apron.

"Mama," Elaina said in a small voice, tugging on the woman's shirtsleeve.

"Oui, would you?" Colette responded to her husband. "I will go check to see how the kitchen is doing." She handed over her apron to Alfredo, and he in turn tied it around his waist.

"Mama," Elaina repeatedly muttered, continuing to tug on her shirtsleeve, until her mother's attention was finally captured. "May I go see Remy?"

"Oui, oui," Colette said hurriedly, shooing her into the building. Elaina happily ran off towards the kitchen.

"YAY, REMY! I WENT TO SCHOOL TODAY!"

Alfredo looked over at all the customers staring up at him. He pulled at his shirt collar nervously. "Uh..." he cleared his throat. "Remy is just her... imaginary friend that cooks in the kitchen!" The customers all turned back to their tables, and resumed their conversations with their respected parties.

* * *

The kitchen door swung open, and Elaina poked her head in. All the rats were hustling, getting their lunch orders done. She smiled, and walked through the door, having it swing shut behind her as she cleared through. Scanning across the kitchen, her smile grew even wider when she saw her grey-furred friend giving instructions to his colleagues as he finished drizzling sauce into a fancy design on a plate.

Remy looked up as Elaina approached the high counter. She stood up on the stepping stool on the floor to get a better view of the dish. Stretching her chin up, the young girl observed the platter. The rat bounced his focus from her to the dish and back to her. He nodded in encouragement and stuck his arms out in a pose. _Ta-da!_ Elaina clapped her hands in polite response.

* * *

The bistro thinned out as the end of lunch neared, as the couple typically closed up the place until the dinner rush. Most of the remaining customers were out on the patio, with two or three crews inside. Alfredo loaded up the empty glasses and plates at a vacant table into a bin, as Colette stood beside him, whipping the white, damp towel off of her right shoulder.

"How is the new school?" she asked, as Alfredo took the towel from her and wiped the table down. She began collecting menus from all of the other tables, tucking each one at a time underneath her left arm.

"It's alright," he responded, sighing. "I feel bad about having to change things on her." He tossed the towel in the bin with the rest of the dishes. "I mean," the red-haired man continued, adjusting the weight of the bin on his hip as he began to move to the next table. "If only we could've waited one more year so she could've finished her last year of kindergarten at the other school..."

Colette ran her hand down his arm to calm him. "I know," she consoled as Alfredo stacked the half-full cups of cold coffee and saucers into his bin.

"Transitioning schools between kindergarten and primary school just made more sense..." he finished off while wiping down the table with a new towel. Draping it over the side of the bin, Alfredo shifted the conversation into a more optimistic direction.

"But... Things are so far, so good. They said academically she's at cours préparatoire comprehension." Colette's face brighten when she heard this news, until Altredo lowered his voice as they made their way out of the patio, "They're catching on to us!"

"Ce qui?" she asked curiously as they weaved themselves through the tables inside the bistro.

"I mean," he clarified, still keeping his voice low. He slowed down his pace until he came to a complete stop. He faced her. "We can't let them know that a rodent who has been reading bedtime stories to her every night and _not _us."

"Oh..." Colette replied, realization seeping into her. "Well," she continued, as they resumed their walk. "Let's just read to her from now on... They never have to know about..." She nodded her head in the direction of the kitchen.

Alfredo cleared his throat. "Um, right." He fidgeted with his apron. "But, uh, when I went to pick up Bella, I ran into an old _friend_ of ours there..."

Colette's eyebrows furrowed. "Qui?"

The man could only give a certain look as an answer, but luckily his wife caught on. Her eyes went wide and gave a small gasp.

"Non!" she said in a low voice. "Monsieur Skinner?" Alfredo nodded.

"And I don't think that our little girl is very fond of his granddaughter, either," he added, grabbing a dirty plate from a table and adding it to his collection of used dishes. "The schoolteacher says Bella had some... social disagreements," he took a moment to clear his throat, "with another student." Alfredo shrugged, "It may be something she grow out of... but," he carried on, picking up a glass. "We'll just have to keep an eye on her."

Colette smiled softly, and leaned in to give him a tender kiss. She pulled away, and looked in his eyes; her own sparkling. "You're a wonderful father." Alfredo smiled back. He knew it was her way of saying to not worry about every little thing but that she still appreciated that he cared so much.

"Honey... Where's Bella?"

They heard a high-pitched shriek sounding from the kitchen, and the pair rushed over to the door like lightning.

* * *

_Several minutes earlier..._

Remy was trying to keep Elaina entertained by showing her how to drizzle the marmalade in that fancy pattern he had demonstrated to her earlier. To his disappointment, she had no interest. Giving a long yawn, the five-year-old hopped off the stool and walked forward.

"I don't want to cook, Remy..." she whined. The rat sighed. The girl never seemed to have the passion for food as he had hoped that she would have.

He looked over to her; she now had the stool by the stove, standing on her tippy-toes. She had her left hand on the counter and he right arm stretched out high above her head. Her elbow too close to the boiling pot that threatened to sputter on the stove. _What on earth was she reaching for?_

Remy squeaked and flailed his paws around. He jumped off of the table and scampered to his companion. Hopping up on the stool, he pulled forcefully at her shoe, to no avail. He let go with a heave, and then looked up. Leaping upwards, he latched onto her skirt and climbed up her back until he grabbed ahold of her pigtails. Yanking them back, Elaina fell backwards off the stools as she shrieked, barely missing the pot.

Her parents barged through the door, seeing the little girl cry as the rat guided her to safety. Colette swooped in and carried her distressed daughter away, "Let's go play somewhere else..." she soothed.

Alfredo crouched down to the rat and held out his hand. The furry creature climbed into his palm, and the man lifted him up to his eye level. "Thank you for looking out for my little girl, Little Chef. Ah," he corrected himself, "I mean, Remy. I don't think I'll ever get used to knowing your real name." He stretched out his arm until he was able to place his friend down on the table.

"Take a break, Little Chef," Alfredo suggested as he left the kitchen. "You deserve it." Remy gave an amused smile. He couldn't really complain about his nickname.

* * *

As the dinner hour approached, Elaina spend her the remainder of her afternoon on the patio, staring at the nearby painters create their colorful masterpieces. One artist drew a sketch of her and let her keep the page. Another artist even gave her a tiny canvas he had leftover, and let her paint upon it.

Remy was on the balcony, where all of the rodent customers dined. He peered down to the human's balcony with a watchful eye on his younger pal. A satisfied feeling washed over him. So Elaina wasn't into cooking, sadly enough, but he was content that she found her niche in something to call her own.

* * *

End of Chapter Seven

* * *

Author's Note: To clarify the education in France, _maternelle_ is kindergarten, and consists of three grades: petite section (ages 3-4), moyenne section (ages 4-5), and grande section (ages 5-6). École élémentaire is primary school, and cours préparatoire is the grade for ages 6-7. I wasn't sure of the equivalency of America's kindergarten to France's when I originally wrote this. Finally finding the proper information, I realized that Colette and Linguini's daughter would already be attending kindergarten at the age of 3, not 5. So I wrote in that Elaina changed schools for her last year in kindergarten. I hope that tied in alright.

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24 August 2011


	8. A Pascal, a Henri, and an Emilie

For disclaimer on _Ratatouille_, please refer to chapter one.

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Chapter Eight: A Pascal, a Henri, and an Emilie

Colette and Alfredo emerged into their darkened flat at the end of the long, eventful day. Elaina, wrapped underneath her father's coat, slept in his arms as he carried her inside. Alfredo shifted his weight to get a better hold on his child while clambering through the front door. With Remy in hand, Colette pushed the door wider and turned on the lamp that sat on the stand by the door.

The couple caught each other's glances, then Alfredo whispered while suppressing a chuckle, "What a day..."

Colette leaned forward to lower Remy down to the floor. Once he jumped off her outstretched hand, she rose back up and smiled softly at the man. Careful not to wake her sleeping child, she gave her husband a peck on the lips. Pulling away, she gazed up into his hazel eyes. As her right hand ran through his hair, she whispered, "Neither of us could've done this alone..." She kissed the top of Elaina's head before making her way to the master bedroom.

Tightening his grip around the girl once more, Alfredo began to march on over to pastel-colored bedroom. Gently, he laid her down on her little bed. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he pulled off her shoes and school jacket. Once her blouse and skirt had been removed, he slipped on her nightgown over her head and tucked her underneath the rose-coloerd comforter. With a kiss on the forehead and a "_bonne nuit_", he turned out the light and joined Colette in the bedroom next door.

Pulling off his back vest and button-up shirt, Alfredo tossed the clothing onto the floor beside the bed. Taking the bow tie in his pants pocket, he lazily flung it on the nightstand. He kicked off his black dress shoes, leaving him with his white tee shirt, black dress pants and black socks on. Finally, he collapsed in an exhausted heap on the bed next to Colette, where she was already dressed in her silk camisole and matching pants, with a book propped up against her knees.

Looking up from her novel, the Parisian woman peered at him curiously while he flipped over onto his back. Placing his hands behind his head, he sighed tiredly-yet-content. A chuckle began to bubble up from his throat.

"Can't imagine what we'd do with another one..." he said, nodding his head in the direction of the room's entrance, towards their child's room. Colette turned her attention back to her book.

"Because we're not having another one," she said, almost aloof.

The traces of his smile that lingered on his face was soon wiped away clean, replaced with a quizzical look. Removing his hands from behind his head, Alfredo used his arms to hoist himself up.

"What?" he asked softly.

Glancing at him again, she continued, "We're not having another baby."

"... Why?" the perplexed man asked.

"One is plenty," she declared, tonelessly. "We can't possibly juggle two."

"So... you don't want to have a Pascal, or a Henri, or a..." He stopped abruptly when he caught sight of Colette's expression- the one she used when she has seen something strange. Dear lord, was he really acting _that_ crazy?

"You already picked out names?"

He shrugged. Colette turned her head back towards text.

"Motherhood was nothing I wanted to pursue." There was a hint of remorse.

"Is... Would having more than one kid be that bad?" he asked, a bit disheartened. He sat up straight, looking toward the door. Did this mean she regret having Bella?

Her eyes strayed from the page of her book, unfocused somewhere in the space near her bare feet as she stretched her legs just slightly.

"I've got one child. One is all I need." She turned to him, her eyes sparkling with deep sympathy. "You, Elaina, the bistro... and the tiny chef. It's all I could ever want. I don't need more than that. I don't need more than you-"

Alfredo suddenly kissed her, holding it for a good minute. "Cheri..." she whispered once they broke free from the kiss, tracing her hand along his jawline.

* * *

Remy sat outside on the ledge of Elaina's bedroom window, gazing at the stars above. It was a favorite pass-time for him to take in the beautiful scenery of Paris. Even living in the city with Linguini for the past six years, it hadn't gotten old and tiresome. Sometimes he could stay up all night and watch the exciting world around him.

A scuffling noise from below made the rat jump. On guard, he peered over the ledge. The noise grew louder as it neared his location, and soon wheezing became audible.

"Remy!" it called out between heaves. "Wow, this is high up..." A pudgy, furry face came into view. "Remy!"

"Emile?" he bemused, only loud enough that he could hear himself whisper his younger brother's name. Scooting closer to the edge to help haul the larger rat up.

"Remy," Emile whined, once he landed sturdily on the ledge. "I'm hungry... Make me something to eat?"

"Emile, you can't just show up and expect I'll be able to provide food for you!" the cooking-savvy rat exasperated.

"Aw, but I'm sure your human friends won't mind! I'll even eat their table scraps if it's that big of a deal."

Remy's beady eyes grew wide, shaking his paws in front of the other's face. "No, I refuse you to eat through the garbage!" he proclaimed.

"Well, then," Emile started, as he began to climb through the open sliver of the window, "what can I eat?"

The grey rat's jaw hung open, shaking his paws even more fiercely. "You can't go in there!"

"Is that your human friends' baby?" Emile asked of the slumbering child in her bed from across the room, once he landed onto the desktop that was positioned underneath the window. "She's gotten fatter."

Remy slapped his head with an open paw, reluctantly following his brother's lead. "_Bigger_, Emile. You mean she's gotten _bigger_."

"Yeah, yeah," he absentmindedly agreed as he clambered onto the nightstand. "That's what I meant." Looking up at the lamp beside him, Emile jumped up and pulled on the dangling switch. The light shone right onto the girl's snoozing face.

"Emile!" the other rat scolded as he finally made his way up the nightstand. "You're going to wake her up!" He made a move to turn off the light, but the child began to stir.

"Great..." Remy muttered, flinging up his arms in defeat. He looked over to see her tiredly open her eyes.

She fixated her gaze on the large, red-furred rat. "Are you Remy's friend?" she asked in a small, sleep-induced voice.

Emile nodded enthusiastically. Looking over to Remy, he pointed eagerly at the girl. "Remy! She spoke to me!"

Remy marched over to Elaina and used his special non-verbal language he shared with the girl. This-is-my-younger-brother, Remy signed. He turned around and traced his tail along the flat surface. The child lifted her finger to trace along with the tail. "E..." she read. "M-I-L-E."

Sound-it-out, Remy coaxed. "Eeh-mm-ee-ll-ee... Emilie?" He shook his head, and traced the letter L with his tail. "Luh," she uttered. "L-l-l... Eeh-mee-ll. Emile!" The rat clamped his paw together and shook them in triumph.

Elaina gave a weary smile, and reached over for a stray crayon lying on the nightstand and held it up next to the obese rat. "Look, I have a crayon that's the same color as Emile!" Remy smiled at her. He jumped on the bed to pull the covers over her. Hopping back onto the nightstand, he switched the light off.

"Bonne nuit, Remy," Elaina faintly called out before she dozed off. "Bonne nuit, Emile."

Emile squeaked back a farewell, as Remy began to climb down the nightstand. "Follow me," he instructed the eager rat.

"Oh, Dad is going to_ freak_ when he finds out that you've been talking to humans," Emile exclaimed while following his brother's lead.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Remy rebutted while walking on his hind legs out the bedroom door. "He knows that I can communicate with them."

"I mean, actually _talking_." the fatter of the two clarified as he got down on all four paws to try to keep up with his agile brother. "It was one thing _reading_ from a cookbook, another to be _teaching_ a human to read." He followed Remy down the hall. "I don't know about you, but I don't think it's normal for rats to be teaching humans anything..."

"Well, I taught them how to cook, didn't I?" Remy shrugged, continuing to walk.

"Ah..." Emile slowed down, until he came to a halt. "Good point." He picked up his pace to catch up, going after Remy into the kitchen. He approached the entrance as soon as he caught sight of the small, grey rat open up the refrigerator.

Remy bounded inside to review the contents. "Hmm... We could make some crêpes in the morning... But for now we can polish off these grapes and cantaloupe that's getting kind of old." Snatching a cloth napkin that was left on the counter, Remy started loading the fruit on the fabric and tied it all up in a bunch. With his teeth, he picked it up by the knot and carried it out of the refrigerator.

Putting down their packaged medley of fruit, Remy shut the fridge. "This way," he told Emile before snatching the parcel in his mouth again. The duo traced the circumference of the room until they reached one of the windows. Unlocking the hinge, Remy stepped out onto the balcony, and untied the bundle of food. Emile climbed up behind him, falling down with an _oomph _on the landing.

"You know, Remy," Emile said once they had settled down with their midnight picnic. "You've done alright." Then the two brothers toasted their grape halves together while they proceeded to star gaze.

* * *

Author's Note: I noticed that many people confuse Emile to be the older brother, but he's actually younger! He calls Remy his "little brother" because of his size, not his age. Check out the book _The Guide to Remy's World_ by Glenn Dakin. This story tells _all_ the details you could ever want from _Ratatouille_.

I also realized that this has been the first chapter to have taken over to Remy's point of view. I had been refraining, since Linguini is the central character, and I wanted it to be clear that he cannot directly communicate with Remy- not even knowing his _actual_ name!- which makes up one-third of the reason why I created Elaina, the new generation of Linguini's adventures with Remy.

Well, there were some... _interesting_ circumstances to getting this chapter done. Without bogging you down with boring, personal details about it, let me just say that I'm finally starting classes on Monday. This means less time for fanfiction. So if you really, _really_ want me to finish this, I'm going to rely on your reviews to let me know! This is going to be a tough quarter for me, and I'll need the encouragement to keep me going. Cheers!

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24 September 2011


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